


All I Want for Christmas

by FruHallbera



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff without Plot, Getting Back Together, Hangover, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Break Up, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28196898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FruHallbera/pseuds/FruHallbera
Summary: Armitage Hux is perfectly fine without Kylo's presence in his life. Perfectly fine. Even the prospect of spending Christmas with only his cat for company does not bother him at all and definitely was not the reason behind his decision to hit the bar.Or so he tells himself.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 16
Kudos: 44
Collections: Kylux Secret Santa 2020





	All I Want for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Faulkner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Faulkner/gifts).



> This is my first Kylux Secret Santa and it has been a fun little event to participate in.
> 
> I hope you like my gift, Lady_Faulkner. I wish you happy holidays and an excellent, joyful new year!

There is a pair of bright red panties hanging from the chandelier. 

Hux closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and counts to five with great difficulty, since the room insists on spinning. He opens his eyes. The panties are still there, caught in the cheap crystals and making the entire chandelier hang sadly askew. Hux risks moving his eyeballs despite his entire being warning him against such a reckless maneuver. He regrets his choices immediately, having to swallow hard against the rising bile in his throat. He centers himself and begins to take stock of all the facts in his possession. 

Item: He is in bed. His _own_ bed, which is a relief. He has no memory of how he got there, but he’s home and apparently in one piece and that’s what matters. 

Item: There is a list of complaints from his body. His head aches. His eyeballs are burning, his skin feels like paper, his tongue feels thick and dry, filling his mouth and sticking to its roof. His _hair_ feels tender. He’s thirsty and needs to pee but any and all movements are met with instant nausea and a wave of awful existential dread engulfing him in its inevitable, all-encompassing horror. 

Conclusion: The pub crawl, while seeming such a good idea the night before has come back to haunt him with a vengeance. He’s not twenty, invincible and immortal anymore. 

He contemplates life, the universe and everything with the horrible clarity of mind brought on by having to face the irrefutable truth of one’s mortality until a set of new, hitherto ignored things manage to catch his attention. Namely, the panties suspended above his head are not his. This should have been obvious from the get-go, as he tends to shun that particular shade of red and prefers teals and blues and greens to compliment his natural colouring. His eyes widen and his fists curl tighter around the sheets as his mind is filled with one, booming _fuck_ that echoes in his skull, drowning every other thought of self-flagellation. 

If only he could remember who he had dragged home with him. 

He braces himself and turns his head ever so carefully and then sighs in relief as he finds the other side of the bed empty – although it’s obviously slept in, the pillow crumpled, and the sheet wrinkled and that should not make his heart clench and tears well up in his eyes because that’s no longer Kylo’s side, the bed belongs to Hux in its entirety and Kylo has forfeited any rights to claim exclusivity to the left side of Hux’s made-to-measure mattress – maybe he’s lucky and the guy he allowed in his bedroom has followed the ancient, sacred way of one-night-stands and has already scampered. 

Hux blinks his uninvited tears away and refuses to think about the reason why they showed up at all. Kylo is long gone and he’s better off without him. So much better off without him, in fact, and last night’s drunken escapade had nothing to do with their recent break-up at all. Hux just doesn’t like Christmas and if he wants to spend the eve sampling every gin-based cocktail on the bar’s menu it’s no one else’s business. 

This unusually emotional state of mind is just his hangover speaking, nothing more. 

He peels himself from the sticky sheets and hauls his aching bones off the bed, pads gingerly towards the bathroom and leans his forehead against the cool tiles as he relieves himself. He refuses to look at himself in the mirror when he washes his hands as nothing of value would be gained in examining his face. He knocks a few bottles to the floor from the medicine cabinet as he fumbles for his painkillers and doesn’t bother to pick them up, instead focusing with all his might to clawing the thin cardboard box open and squeezing two pills onto the palm of his hand from the blister pack. He pops the pills into his mouth and drinks straight form the faucet, rinsing his face with the cold water after swallowing the tablets. 

This is not how he imagined spending his Christmas. 

Granted, he had no plans, in fact he hasn’t even brought out the few decorations he owns, nor stocked the fridge with season-appropriate food. Without Kylo there’s no point in doing anything besides maybe working a little and then drowning his sorrows in red wine, frozen dinner and some stupid action movie but even that feels ruined somehow. He sneaks back into the bedroom and circumventing the discarded clothes on the floor goes to his wardrobe to fetch the softest pair of pyjama pants he owns and dons them, turning slowly around when he’s halfway through, his brow furrowed and his heart skipping a beat. 

He can see two pairs of trousers, their legs happily mingled, by the bed. 

He’s pretty sure he was wearing only one pair when he went out. 

Not only that, but he can count three socks in one glance. 

Shit. Shit fuck shitty shit shit. 

Forgetting the top he meant to put on, he creeps out of the bedroom and down the corridor, ears straining to hear the smallest of unfamiliar sounds. He notices that Millicent isn’t there trying to trip him up as is her usual habit and a sudden stab of worry pierces his chest. He pauses and calms himself, thinking that the cat must have gone into hiding until the stranger danger in her domain has been dealt with and continues towards the kitchen where he can hear muffled noises accompanied by the odd thump and the hiss and rumble of his percolator. 

Hux’s worry evaporates and is replaced with cold fury. The audacity! The sheer nerve! He did not give some poor bastard the ride of his life only to have him rummaging through his possessions! 

He rounds the corner and is greeted not only by Millicent’s cheerful _mmrrp_ _!_ but also a pair of muscular buttocks peeking out from his fridge. Millie trots to him her bushy tail held high, trilling and asking for her customary morning pets but Hux can’t give her what she wants, not while his head is swimming and his fingers have gone numb and his breath is catching in his throat. He _knows_ the curve of those buttocks. He knows the placement of each mole and the velvety feel of the ruddy ball sac just visible between the powerful thighs and he knows how those long, wide feet might look clumsy and unwieldy but can actually carry their owner with a dancer’s grace through a fistfight - 

“Kylo,” he chokes out, not believing the evidence laid out before his eyes. Kylo – if the man is truly him – bangs his head as he backs out of the fridge and curses loudly and Hux has to suffocate another sob because that _is_ his Kylo, rubbing the back of his head and clutching a carton of milk in one massive paw and it takes Hux a moment to wrap his brain around that, because he knows that Kylo likes his coffee black, but Hux has his with milk and it’s all too much and he still can’t feel his fingers - 

“I fed Millie,” Kylo says, just standing there with his flaccid dick out and the milk held in one hand and the meagre December light playing on his dark hair. Hux’s heart compresses and bursts. 

“How -” he manages. “Why.” None of this is helping. “You,” he elaborates. 

Kylo shrugs and hangs his head, rubs his neck once more and lowers his hand, lets it hang by his side. “Yeah. Well.” He shrugs again. “So.” 

“So,” Hux repeats dumbly. 

Kylo looks him from head to toe, blushing when his gaze rakes over the low-slung pyjama pants. Hux hikes them up and feels his face colouring. 

“You want me gone,” Kylo says quietly and makes a halting motion towards the door. 

“No!” Hux hears himself yelp, even though his mind tries to intervene with a “yes.” 

“You’ve - the coffee’s done,” he finishes lamely, gesturing at the percolator. Kylo swallows but nods, goes to fetch the cups and Hux gapes at his familiarity with his kitchen but of course he knows where Hux keeps his things, he used to practically live here. Kylo pours the coffee and adds exactly the right amount of milk in Hux’s cup and holds it out to Hux who snatches it from his grip, the accidental brush of their fingers burning like fire on his skin. 

They drink in awkward silence, standing up in the neat little kitchen. Hux cradles his cup with both hands, holding on to it like a lifeline. The coffee is divine, chasing the worst cobwebs of the hangover from his brain and calming him down considerably. 

He sneaks glances at Kylo, at his furrowed brow, his broad shoulders and overlarge fingers, thinking how much space he takes in his small kitchen, how much space he took in Hux’s life and how he shouldn’t want him to come back and fill the horrible void he left behind when they broke up and Kylo stormed out, Hux throwing his possessions out of the window - 

Millicent brushes against his legs and Hux feels grateful at the cat’s impeccable sense of timing, but then she saunters over to rub herself against Kylo’s calves. Hux scowls at her but she ignores him completely, blinking slowly and sticking her tail right up and vibrating it at Kylo, like the traitor she is. She twirls around and purrs happily when Kylo bends down to scratch her ears, meowing a command when he tries to stop. Hux can’t watch. He clears his throat and shifts his weight, keeps his eyes away until he can see in his peripheral vision that Kylo is standing up straight. 

“I thought you’d have gone to your parents for the holidays,” Hux says, desperate to come up with something, anything to distract himself from the maddening yearning to walk into the circle of Kylo’s arms and be pulled against his chest but that’s an option no longer available to him. 

Kylo looks at his feet.“Nah,” he says, slowly. “I didn’t feel like – I didn’t want to explain. You know. Why I came alone.” 

“Oh.” Hux twirls the coffee in his mug, scrunches his nose. There’s nothing he can say. He’s been avoiding people for the exact same reason, picking the wound open time and again to appease nosy people holds no appeal. 

“So,” he says instead. Stops, trying to find the correct words. “We.” He gestures vaguely at himself and Kylo’s nudity and presses his lips into a tight line to prevent the impending meltdown from manifesting into reality. He can already feel himself fraying at the edges, knows with absolute certainty that when the door closes behind Kylo he will fall apart and shatter and can’t tell if he can pick himself up again. He knows his heart will break and that there’s nothing he can do to prevent it. 

There is no way of turning back time, however much he wishes it, so the best he can do right now is to hold it together until Kylo has left his apartment and his life for good. 

“We didn’t, if that’s what you mean.” Kylo sounds as uncertain as Hux feels. “You tried, though. And I would have. But. You passed out ” 

“Why did you – I thought you never wanted to see me again.” It hurts to say the words, to admit the thing Hux knows to be true – Kylo did scream it at him, after all, after listing every single thing that was wrong with both Hux and their relationship. “If you wanted to humiliate me one more time, congratulations, you did a splendid job.” 

Kylo looks at him, really looks, from head to toe, like he was staring into Hux’s soul and shakes his head. “No, Hux. No. I never – I never wanted to mock you. I just – you were so -” 

“Drunk? Desperate?” 

“Yes. No. Drunk, I mean, yes, and so was I but you weren’t desperate – okay, well, maybe you were but so was I and I just wanted to, I just wanted -” Kylo keeps rambling on, stumbling over his words, gesticulating so much that Hux half expects him to spill the coffee all over himself. “And you said you still loved me and called me a bastard, and other names, too, and you almost broke my nose, and I know that was the alcohol speaking but it was you and I - I didn’t want my last memory of you to be our fight.” 

Silence falls. Hux is stunned, his skin suddenly tingling and an ugly hope rising despite his best attempts to tamp it down. 

“You want me gone, I know, but please allow me to keep the version of you I had in my arms last night,” Kylo whispers, staring at his coffee cup, standing there so forlornly and unfathomably sad Hux jerks towards him involuntarily. 

“I didn’t remember bringing you over when I woke up. I thought it was someone else.” Hux says and Kylo recoils as if slapped. “I saw the aftermath and I felt -” Hux swallows and summons all his determination to force the words out before his jaw clamps shut, “I felt dirty. Like I had cheated on you.” 

He doesn’t dare to look at Kylo and flinches when he hears him putting his cup down and walking towards him, expecting him to shoulder past him and go find his clothes and leave. 

Instead, a pair of warm hands curl around his waist, hesitantly, and as Hux raises his head he’s pulled into a soft, chaste kiss, Kylo’s lips pressing against his and he can feel how much Kylo is shaking and holding his breath until Hux relaxes into the embrace and parts his lips to welcome Kylo in. His hands slide up Kylo’s arms and his fingers twine into his hair, holding fast. Kylo steps closer, his body slotting up against Hux’s like it always did, like it’s meant to do. His mouth opens to let Hux in, and Hux makes a hungry, desperate little sound at the back of his throat. 

The kiss tastes like coffee and stale alcohol. It is perfect. 

Suddenly it feels exactly like Christmas. 


End file.
